"I'm sorry," Grissom signed, his gaze flicking between his mother and Sara. He didn't say the words, he just rotated a sad fist on his chest a few times, and Sara wondered whether it was easier for him to form the sign rather than speak the word.
"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Betty signed back immediately, vehemently, taking the words right out of Sara's mouth.
Grissom lifted a small shoulder. "Your trip, the visit…it all started so well." He spoke with his hands only, but the glances he threw in Sara's direction meant that he included her in the exchange. She was trying to stay strong and keep her tears at bay, but seeing first hand how much pain he was in made it hard. He was right; at that moment in time it was easier not to use words.
"And it will finish just as well," Betty countered, holding her son's gaze meaningfully.
The morning couldn't have started any better for the two women; still buoyed up by the previous day's visit they were looking forward to spending another happy day with him. It was only an hour or so previously, when parked in the prison visitors' car lot Sara had given her cell one last check before she would put it away for the day, that the mood had changed. Reading his news had crushed her and she'd sat shocked and staring unseeingly at her cell for long seconds. She knew just how devastated he would be at Mr Martinez's death, how awfully guilty and responsible he'd feel too.
Betty had gently covered her hand, and looking up Sara had wiped the tears from her eyes. Betty was looking at her with a mixture of fear, concern and puzzlement, and Sara opened her mouth to explain, then belatedly raised her hands, but could form no words or signs to share Grissom's news. In the end, she held out her cell and let Betty read the message for herself. Despite the look of pain in her eyes, Betty gave Sara a small smile and patted her hand comfortingly before signing that she was surprised, but very glad, that he hadn't cancelled the visit altogether, that it showed he was coping.
Betty's comment gave Sara pause and it took her a while to realise that the older woman was right. Yes, he'd received tragic news but unlike in the past he wasn't cutting himself off them, his loved ones. He was opening up and letting them in, he was allowing them to share the burden of his pain and give him their love and support. Determined to stay strong for him, Sara had checked her reflection in the mirror, wiping around her eyes and fluffing her hair. Then she'd turned toward Betty and the two women shared a smile. They would be there for him every step of the way.
Giving her head a shake, Sara turned her attention back to the moment and her surroundings. Grissom was looking at his mother expectantly. Betty's hands were poised into signs when she paused suddenly. Her hands curling back into loose fists in front of her on the table, she turned toward Sara and smiled.
Understanding the older woman's silent question, Sara gave her a thumbs-up. "I'm okay," it said. "Just keep talking to him; I'll try to follow as much as I can."
Betty nodded, then turned back to Grissom whose gaze had glazed over as he stared at a point in front of him. She wished she knew what to say to lift his gloom and make him feel better. Slowly, he refocused on them and Sara gave him a smile he returned uncertainly.
Betty raised her hands and he looked over at her. "Life sent you a challenge," she signed, a determined look on her face, and Sara frowned.
He lifted his right hand, palm toward him, and showed one lonely index finger. "Just one?"
Sara stifled her smile. Even with signs, he could be petulant.
Betty waved his interruption off. "They're all tests of your courage and willingness to change. To adapt."
Averting his eyes to the table, Grissom nodded his head sombrely. He looked awkward, slightly fed-up, and Sara knew he didn't want to have that conversation with his mother. Briefly, she wondered whether she should interrupt and mention that she'd spoken to Catherine, but opted not to. However uncomfortable, it could be good for him to hear a few truths, especially if they came from his mother rather than her. After glancing at Sara uncertainly, Betty touched her son's hand and he looked back up.
"What happened is very sad," she went on, her expression earnest, yet eager, "but you're coping with it. You're doing well, Gil."
Grissom gave his mother a small smile and nod. She reached for his hand and he gripped it.
"But you need to do more than just cope."
Grissom's face fell, and rolling his eyes he looked at Sara for help. She just gave him a helpless shrug, and he slowly refocused on his mother.
"Your past is what it is," Betty went on, quietly but relentlessly. She'd obviously thought about what she needed to tell him and was determined to do it when she had the chance whether he wanted to hear it or not. "It changes you. It changes all of us. It makes us into different people, better people. But you can't change it. No one can change the past. Not even…"
Looking more and more annoyed, Grissom pulled a face while Sara's frown intensified. She could tell Betty kept her signing deliberately slow so she could follow and mostly she did, or she thought she did anyway, but the last sign had her completely stumped. What had Betty signed that had riled Grissom? She raised her hand to draw attention, then schooled her features into a look of intense puzzlement and repeated the sign.
Grissom's look of annoyance morphed into one of amusement. Smiling, he flicked his eyes to his mother, lifted a brow and once again repeated the sign. "It's the sign for God," he then said, refocusing on Sara. "She's saying I'm not God."
Betty registered a look of shock, then batted her son's words away. She was smiling, and had clearly lip-read what he'd told Sara. "That's not what I said," she signed to Sara, her expression sobering as she narrowed her eyes at her son. Sara and Grissom shared a look and suppressed their smiles.
"What I said was," Betty went on with her hands, addressing Sara, "that Gil's future is in his hands." She turned toward her son. "Your willingness to learn from the past gives you a choice."
Grissom's eyes narrowed in a question. "A choice?"
Sara's gaze flicked back to her mother-in-law. Her expression was solemn, her eyes intent as they moved back and forth and up and down as she tried to keep up with the conversation and the mood on her companions' faces.
Betty gave a firm nod. "You can either keep looking back to the past, and feel the way you do, sad and depressed—"
"Depressed?"
Looking at Grissom straight in the eyes, Betty made her hand into a fist and bent it up and down at the wrist. "Yes," she insisted, "Depressed."
Grissom's gaze averted before he gave a nod. "You said I had a choice," he queried, looking back up.
Betty glanced at Sara, and Sara nodded that she was doing the right thing and should carry on. "If you don't look back then you're looking forward," she then signed, turning back to her son and giving him a warm smile. "Your life didn't stop with what happened, so you need to start living it again and looking forward to a future out of here." She looked over at Sara and smiled again, "with us."
Grissom didn't respond. He just blew a short breath, while it took Sara a moment longer to finish putting all the signs into coherent meaning.
"Your mom talks a lot of sense," she finally told him aloud, forgetting to sign the words.
Grissom pulled a face at her, but she could tell he wasn't annoyed at his mother for calling him out on his feelings, on his behaviour, but more at himself, maybe for behaving that way and indulging on his negative feelings instead of moving forward. "You're not helping," he told Sara, the hint of a smile twisting his lips.
"Oh, I think we are," she replied, grinning.
Grissom's smile widened, and he shook his head. Still smiling, Sara turned toward Betty who was watching their lips and interaction with interest and gave her a thumbs-up.
"Finished with the lecture?" Grissom then signed to his mother while also speaking the words.
Betty pulled a face. "Only if you promise to think about what I just told you."
His expression softening, Grissom nodded his head. "So what did you get up to last night?" he then asked both with words and his hands, eyes flicking between the two women eagerly, clearly needing to change topics.
A giddy smile broke across Betty's face. "Well," she replied, glancing at Sara excitedly, "we took a drive out to see the sunset."
"The sunset?" Grissom queried with a look at Sara, frowning in puzzlement.
"We drove out to Kern Canyon," Sara explained. "The locals claim it's California's best kept secret, so we thought we'd check it out."
"The way the brown hills reflect off the water is very beautiful," Betty added with her hands.
Grissom's smile faded into melancholy. "Sounds nice."
"You were there too," Sara whispered, leaning over to him, "With us."
He flicked his eyes over to her, and his smile brightening picked up her hand off the table and brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss. The gesture was so tender, so unexpected, that Sara felt herself blush.
Betty cleared her throat noisily, deliberately, and they laughed. She scraped her chair back. "I'm going to go to the bathroom," she signed, pushing to her feet, "Give you two a moment alone to catch up."
Sara reached for Betty's hand, keeping her in place. "You don't have to do that," she signed.
Betty gave her daughter-in-law a warm smile. "I want to." Her smile widened as she flicked her eyes over to Grissom. "Besides, I do need to go."
Both Grissom and Sara lowered a flat hand from their chins in thanks.
"Same as yesterday?" Betty signed before pointing to the clear bag of coins.
Grissom and Sara nodded their heads. Sara reached for the purse she handed over to Betty and watched her go.
"She's a formidable woman," Sara said, turning back to her husband whose gaze was fixed on his mother's retreating form.
He scoffed but didn't otherwise comment.
She reached for his hand on the table, turned it over gently and stroked his fingers. "You're going to be okay," she said, looking up to his face, unsure if she was trying to convince him or herself with the statement.
Closing his hand over hers, he gave her a soft smile.
They shared a long look before Sara said, "Your mother's right, you know."
Grissom gave a quiet nod. "I know. And I am looking forward to the future." He squeezed her hand tenderly. "I can't wait to be back home with you and Mom, and catch up on all the things I've missed."
"But?" she prompted. His tone of voice told her one was coming.
Dropping her hand, he lifted a shoulder uncertainly. "I don't think I'll ever be able to leave this…" he waved his hand about his face, "sadness behind."
Sara frowned. "How do you mean?"
He shrugged again. "I think this sadness has become a part of me, I don't think it will ever go away."
By sadness, she understood he meant depression. It was the first time he acknowledged what she'd been fearing for months. Feeling tears rise, she averted her eyes to the table.
"And while it doesn't define me," he went on quietly, "I'm going to need to learn to live with it. It's my reminder of the harm I've done, the cross I have to bear."
Sara looked up with surprise. "That's…a very religious thing to say."
He smiled wryly. "Don't worry. I'm not about to convert."
"It wouldn't be an issue if you did," she said, determinedly, emotionally. "It could help, you know?"
"I don't think so."
"Maybe it would bring you peace, some kind of comfort—"
He scoffed. "Now you're sounding just like my mother." He paused, shrugged. "I've got you, and Mom." He picked up her hand again and squeezed it. "I'm doing okay, alright? It's just…the news hit me hard, that's all. It brought everything home again."
"Well, that's to be expected. But it'll get easier."
He gave an unconvinced nod. "Did I tell you the funeral was yesterday?"
Sara shook her head softly.
"I feel for the daughter, you know?" He blew out a slow, trembling breath. "Losing both her parents like that."
Sara gave a nod, but had no words of comfort to offer him. She just offered him a smile and hoped that talking about it with her would help ease his pain and guilt. "Mr Martinez was a good man," she said, "but he'd been ill for a long time."
Grissom sighed, nodded his head. "I know. I'm glad I wrote to him," he went on, tears welling in his eyes once again, "When I had the chance."
Sara gave his hand a squeeze he returned warmly. "It was good you did. That way you made peace. With him, if not with yourself."
Discreetly wiping at his eyes with his free hand, Grissom gave a forlorn nod.
"He didn't resent you, you know," she said softly, and her brow creasing stopped dead in her tracks. "When did you say Mr Martinez died?"
"A couple of weeks ago." He frowned. "Why?"
"Think about it, Gil," she went on, her mind whirring. "Time wise, it all fits."
Grissom's puzzlement intensified. "Slow down, Sara. I'm not following. What all fits?"
Sara cast a quick look around, kept her voice low despite the urgency in her tone. "Mr Martinez's death. My kidnapping. The ransom demand. I think the daughter – Marisa – is behind it. I think she's Moneypenny."
Grissom wiped at his face. "Sara—"
"Being at her father's funeral yesterday would explain why we haven't gotten a reply to the email we sent. She wouldn't have had time."
Grissom was still looking conflicted, disbelieving.
"Gil," she went on, "I get that you don't want to believe it, but think about it logically, objectively." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Just…put your investigator hat on for one second and think it through. Mr Martinez died two weeks ago. Heartbroken, Marisa decides she wants revenge and cooks up my kidnapping. She knows who we are, where we live. She thinks we have money."
"Why would she think that?"
"Because you paid for her mother's funeral."
He looked surprised that she knew, but her words clearly gave him pause.
"Maybe now she wants more money to pay for her father's funeral," she insisted quietly.
He looked up sharply.
"What is it?"
He sighed. "I just sent her a cheque – well, my attorney did – to pay for the funeral. It was all set up from…from before." He wiped at his eyes and gave his head a shake. "Oh, I don't know, Sara. If it's money she's after, why ask to be paid in Bit coins?"
"I don't know. But why not? It's all done through a computer. Maybe she thinks it's untraceable. What does it matter?"
He was watching her beseechingly. "How do you explain the fact that the ransom demand was posted from Jackson, Mississippi? That's what? Five? Six hours away from Port Arthur?"
Sara opened her mouth to reply, only to find that she had no rejoinder. Instead, she blew out a breath. "I'm not saying I have all the answers, and I hope against all hope that I'm wrong, but it's just…too much of a coincidence otherwise. We've been racking our brains trying to think of someone with a strong enough motive to want to do us harm. And the kidnapping seemed so spontaneous, so poorly planned. It all fits, Gil. I know it does."
Grissom thought everything over for a moment before he finally gave a nod.
"We got to let Jim and Catherine know." Sara made to stand, but remembering where she was thought better of it.
"Now? No," he said, fearfully. "If you leave, they won't let you back into the room."
She hesitated. "We got to act fast, Gil, before it's too late. Don't you want her caught?"
"Of course, but…where's the rush? As far as they're concerned, everything is going ahead as planned. They still think they have the upper hand." He paused. "No, before we act, we need evidence. We need to be one-hundred-per-cent sure we're right. We're going to need Catherine and the feds to trace the burner and the email IP address back to them. Without that, what proof do we have? If Marisa is Moneypenny then she's not going anywhere."
When Sara finally twisted her lips, conceding that he had a point, he gave her a smile.
"Besides," he looked at his wrist, but wasn't wearing his watch, "I intend to keep you here for the full three and bit hours we got left. A month is a long wait."
A slow smile formed on her face. "I can't argue with that."
They lapsed into silence, Sara musing how nice it was to see Grissom enthused and thinking like a CSI again while he worriedly scanned his eyes over the visitation room. Breaking into a smile, he raised his hand in a small wave and Sara followed his eye line, finding Betty waiting at the coffee machine.
"Did you speak to Catherine?" he then asked, and Sara turned back toward him.
She gave a nod. "I called her last night. She didn't have much to update me on. They're confident they can trace the burner."
Grissom nodded. "That's what Jim said. He also said she didn't take to knowing I was behind bars very well."
Sara shrugged, played down Catherine's reaction. "You know Catherine. She went through three of the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds."
Grissom chuckled quietly. "Let me guess. Denial, anger and then acceptance?"
"Mainly anger, though."
His expression sobered. "Did you…manage to explain?"
"I did, but…well, she said she…wants to come and see you."
Grissom's eyes widened with fear. "What, here?"
Sara nodded. "I told her it wasn't a good idea," she added before he could object, "That you weren't ready to see anyone yet."
His gaze averting, he nodded his head. "Thank you."
"But maybe you should, you know?" she went on tentatively. "Maybe it's time you faced those fears and started building your bridges again. And why not start with Catherine?"
He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a long sigh.
"You'll be out in less than six months, Gil."
He refocused on her sharply. "Provided they approve the early release."
"They will. Why wouldn't they? You have been the model prisoner."
Grissom pulled a face. "Tell Catherine I don't have any points left."
Sara laughed. "Oh, I'm sure she'd find a way around that."
Grissom made a musing that's-what-I'm-afraid-of sound before refocusing his eyes to their left and smiling. Betty returned and, when they pulled back from the table, she set down the tray laden with drinks and snacks she was carrying. The visitation room provided a few board games and playing cards, and smiling Grissom motioned to the battered deck she'd visibly borrowed.
"You checked we have all four aces this time?" he signed, his smile as mischievous as the look in his eyes.
Head shaking in mock exasperation, Betty resumed her seat and began sharing the food and drinks around. Sara tried to put her worries and thoughts about the case aside, and they spent the rest of their time together quietly sharing anecdotes, laughing and playing cards. To the outside observer, they looked like they were having a good time – and they were. Yet there were moments when she caught Grissom deep in thought with that sad faraway look in his eyes, and she knew he was thinking about Mr Martinez and his daughter.
All too soon, an officer walked up to their table, announcing that it was time for them to say goodbye, and she was filled with overwhelming sadness. Leaving him when he was so down was heart-breaking, but she willed herself to stay strong. They stood up and, under the watchful eye of the officer, she and Betty shared long and heartfelt hugs with him.
"We'll see you in a few weeks," Sara said, when the officer indicated that Grissom should leave first.
Grissom gave a despondent nod before he flicked his eyes to his mother and giving her a small smile raised his hand in goodbye. Betty's returning smile quivered but just like her son she held on to her tears. He didn't look back, and it was just as well. It was tough to see him be led away from them like that. When Sara turned to Betty, the latter was wiping at her eyes under the rim of her glasses. She took a step toward her, then draped her arm around her shoulders comfortingly and they made their way out of the visitation room.
The mood in the car afterwards was subdued. Betty kept her face turned away as she stared at the passing landscape while Sara watched the road. Her mind was on the call she would make to Catherine, but the urgency had left her. If Marisa Baker was indeed found to be Moneypenny, would that add to Grissom's feelings of guilt and wretchedness? His depression? Not only had he killed Mr and Mrs Martinez – in his eyes anyway – but he'd also be instrumental to putting their daughter behind bars. She wasn't sure how he would cope with that.
Just like she had the previous day, Sara pulled up at Jo's Diner on the outskirts of Taft. Even though neither woman was hungry, they ordered a light lunch and a couple of iced teas. While they waited, Betty went to use the facilities and Sara called Catherine. The chances that anyone was at work on a Saturday were slim, but she hoped Catherine could alert the right people anyway. It would get the ball rolling and maybe they'd even start to carry out a few checks. Catherine picked up on the second ring.
"Sara, I was about to call you. Well, I was going to leave a message. You finished with Gil already?"
"It was busy, so we had to leave." She frowned. "You heard back from Moneypenny?"
"We did. We got a reply this morning. It's short and to the point as you'd expect. They want ten Bit coins for your release."
"Ten?" Sara exclaimed, surprised. "That doesn't sound like much."
Catherine chuckled. "It depends. Is fifty G much?"
Sara did a double take. "How much?"
"Fifty thousand dollars, Sara. Give or take."
Sara opened her mouth, then shut it again. The waitress returned with the two iced teas, and refocusing she thanked her with a smile. "Where does she think we'd get that kind of money from?"
There was a pause. "She?"
Sara sighed. Searching the diner for signs of Betty, she explained about Mr Martinez's death and his daughter's strong animosity toward Grissom when she'd met her, that she was sure, even if Grissom was more cautious, that Marisa had to be behind the kidnapping and blackmail. "You got any leads on the phone number?" she then asked.
"Not yet. But I'll take a good look at the daughter. See what comes up."
"Thanks, Catherine. I'll call Jim in a little while to let him know."
"That'd help." Catherine paused before her tone changed from professional to caring as she asked, "How was Gil?"
Sara's sadness returned. "Not great. He put on a brave face in front of his mother but Mr Martinez's death hit him hard."
Catherine gave a long sigh. "Oh, Sara, I really wish I'd known the truth sooner."
Sara scoffed. "So do I, Cath. So do I."
There was a pause. "Did you...mention to him about me visiting?" Catherine's tone was soft, hopeful.
"I don't think he's up to it. Not yet. But maybe you could write to him?"
"I will."
Sara checked the entrance to the bathroom for signs of Betty. "Anyway, I'd better go."
After thanking Catherine one last time, they said their goodbyes and Sara put her phone away. She was taking a sip of her tea when Betty returned. She was looking understandably tired but conflicted too. Plastering a smile on her face, Sara made the thumbs-up sign. "Everything okay?"
When Betty quietly shook her head in reply, Sara was filled with a deep sense of foreboding. The waitress walked up to their table, and both women sat back while she set the plates down. When the waitress bid them a cheerful "Enjoy your meal", Betty flashed a quick smile but Sara kept a straight face and fearful eyes on her mother-in-law.
Her day was about to get worse.